We revere our ancestors
Becoming their protectors
Because they're remembered
With a golden scepter
Yet they're only infectors
Through outdated lectures

If you examine history
It doesn't take too long
To unravel the mystery
Our ancestors were wrong
They sing a siren's song
Of tradition
As redundant repetition
They sing a tribal hymn
Of societal sin
That fools fall in
Until we're walled in

If you want to meet our ancestors
Go to North Sentinel Island
They'll turn you into a rejector
Or **** you where you stand
The last island of savages
It's barely inhabited
Due to its low population
And the fact that its inhabitants are barely people
There's further obfuscation
When they can't differentiate between good and evil

Two fishermen drifted toward the village
Not to ****** and pillage
They had haphazardly fallen asleep
And temporarily lost control
They couldn't hear their worried fleet
Or the natives on patrol
They were turned into the dearly departed
Because these savages are basically *******
No justice was found for those men
They were killed by a protected people
Why are we protecting them then
If mere contact will always be lethal?

We love our ancestors so much we let them ****** us
Yet these are the same people that have inserted us
Into this cycle of violence
And now they're dead
The only relief is their silence
Their ideas we must shed

Missing all the 2 AM chats
about All the Things,
the this and thats.
You were always awake too.
Ready to share,
ready to care.
Ready to tell a story or two.
You drank in kindness,
with every black cup.
To the world's darkness,
you had blindness,
always... looking up.
Grandma, how can it be,
that you WERE?
How can you be,
not here with me?
You miss us all,
I am sure.
We miss you too.
In all the little things we do,
all the times we show how to care.
All those times...
You are there.
Never again...
Cannot be real.
My heart cannot begin,
To accept that deal.
I will laugh and cry and love,
with you.
Either here,
or above.
Do not forsake me,
in my Pagan ways.
Light my path,
these earthly days.
For to live, and laugh, and toil, and love,
with your whole heart,
I have heard...
is what makes a good life.
A good wife.
A soul well lived and learned.
But just in case,
Can you put in a good word?
For I cannot bear
to exisit in a world,
With you never again there.

Mellow
Mundane
Mutiny
Meets the madman
Conducting orchestration
For our mothers lips
Saint Frances
Saint Frances
Saint Frances
I hope you've arrived
Cacooned eyes awaiting
Ephemeral steady fluctuation
Persephone gaze
Diana's rage
Eternal blue flame
Dripping crimson fingertips
The heavens eloped when you left us here.
us.
here
Remains.
Remains on the fire escape
An external buzz
Heard during my cigarette break
My sight caught by persephones polenating powerhouses who remains meditative and floating
Above the clover grass
Elucid and fleeting
Yet evermore
Remains on the tumbling limestones and mounds of our ancestors.
I beg for your wisdom
Sometimes I think
I'm hearing your voice
Asking me to be calm
And stop searching so deep
Saying your "with me
In more than the form of a humble bumble bee
But still keep running for me through the vast trees
Until you find your self unmoving and buckled at the knees"

The Great Wall of China is a series of fortifications made of stone, brick, tamped earth, wood, and other materials, some of which include: chips of cloven hooves, beating in rhythm with a grand conqueror on high, brethren united in one charge; sweat of a migrant, summertime rain cooling between his shoulder blades, stones callusing fingers; blood of one and many terracotta men, giving their lives for God and king; new silk chewed up by moths; jade and chrysanthemum, a nobleman’s wife’s treasury; sun and wind, a flood, grace of a new emperor - my life, reaching backwards into pockets of rice fields, scholars’ tables, great-grandmother’s childhood castle, everything I know.

what my ancestors gave me

(the curves of my body
the curls in my hair
the swell of my *******
the wetness between my legs)

was not meant to be colonized.

time is blood
and blood is time
all the blood of my ancestors
flowing through my veins
why did i forget their song
the drums of life
lyrics of freedom